


Don't Tap Out

by xSheepie



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Begging, Bloodplay, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Boys Boxing, Explicit Language, M/M, PWP, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xSheepie/pseuds/xSheepie
Summary: Kavinsky asks Ronan to teach him how to fight and Ronan agrees. Unfortunately (or not) Ronan gets distracted from his beat down when Kavinsky sneaks a kiss.This is a tumblr post I saw years ago and edited a lot. I have changed and added roughly four pages of content since then. All creds to the original author (I forget who it is)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey to all ya'll who have read this and wanted smut, it has been added and updated (as of 10/29/16)! I didn't add a second chapter or make it a series; it is now all in one chapter for your veiwing pleasure. Sorry for the confusion and I love you all.

Ronan's phone beeped and he checked it quickly before tossing it back in the direction on his gym bag. Joseph had arrived. The Bulgarian walked in in basketball shorts that hung off his hips, a ribbed tank and a simple gold chain that caught on his protruding collar bones; the ever present white sunglasses, he slowly pushed to the top of his head. 

Ronan waited for him to make the first move from where he had been beating a punching bag senseless. Kavinsky serveyed the dimly lit gym and seemed to nod to himself. He came over to Ronan at a slow pace, as if this wasn't a favor he was asking. As if he had a right to this space. Ronan's lips curled. 

"Well." He said and started to tape Kavinskys hands. He had to admit, to that secret part of himself, that Kavinskys' hands were beautiful. Slender fingers, with clean, naturally rounded nails and knuckles so sharp they nearly broke skin.

He tried to ignore K's eyes on him. Ronan led him into the ring, neither boy one to mince words. Ronan showed him the correct stance, adjusting his foot and pushing his hands closer to his body. “Good, here we go.” He said and started to bounce on his toes. Kavinsky took his lead as they started to circle. Ronan jabbed at his stomach and the other boy backed away. Ronan advanced and K kept skittering backwards.

“Put your hands up!” Ronan said sternly when he curled a right hook into the side of Kavinsky’s face.

The punch was nowhere near full strength, which was why Ronan was so surprised when Kavinsky stumbled to the side. Sometimes Ronan forgot that a glancing blow to him wasn’t a glancing blow for a novice. He was pretty sure that he’d come out of the womb swinging so he didn’t really know when a hit was light and when it wasn’t till after the damage had been done.

Kavinsky put one of his taped hands up to stop Ronan from punching him again. It was pathetic to see him so easily downed with a hit that Ronan had barely felt in his knuckles, never mind that they were taped as well. The tape strained as he balled his fists and released them again, bouncing on his toes to keep the adrenaline flowing.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Ronan teased.

“Fuck off, dickweed.”

Something in Kavinsky’s tone told Ronan that he didn’t appreciate being called a pussy. If Ronan didn’t know any better he would have had to say he struck some sort of nerve. This was new to him because he rarely saw Kavinsky act like a wounded animal, but the way he was looking at Ronan it was clear he felt like a cornered one. Ronan tried to resist the urge, but the idea of pushing the other boy’s buttons was too much for him to fight. He had to get his kicks in wherever he could.

“How are you going to dominate Proko like that, K? He’s going to own your ass if you can’t put up a bit of a fight.”

It was clear as day the way Kavinsky tensed at the jibe. He was coiled like a snake, an act Ronan knew better than his BMW. It was the posture one adopted when they were preparing for blow after solid blow. Kavinsky was tightening up so he could take it, but there was that slight tapping of his pretty bony fingers that told Ronan he was wound too tight. He would snap if he was pushed any further. And Ronan, being the addict he was, couldn’t stop.

“Does he own your ass? Pussy.”

Ronan had underestimated how much force Kavinsky could pack because of his slight weight and height but when the boy swung at him, Ronan didn’t have enough time to react.

_Thwack._

The left hook to his jaw made Ronan stumble to catch himself because he hadn’t been expecting such a powerful hit from such a starved frame. It didn’t stop there and Kavinsky delivered another stinging blow to his right temple causing Ronan to see white stars for a second before he got his wits about himself and threw up his arms to protect his face. Already he could taste blood in his mouth and he reflexively curled to the side where Kavinsky hit him.

Air rushed from his lungs and he nearly lost it, but he managed to keep a hold on himself despite the sharp ache of empty lungs.

The last time anyone had hit him that hard or accurately was when the Gray Man had attacked and that was different. It felt good. It reminded him how depenent the human body was, how weak. It reminded him he was alive. But then again this wasn't a trained assassin and all he needed at this moment to feel alive was K's long fingers and so he quickly stopped thinkin and started reacting.

Three blows. That’s all he got before Ronan reacted defensively and slammed his knuckles into Kavinsky’s left cheekbone. The svelte boy fell to the side, bowing before the power of the blow; Ronan wasn’t going to hold back now. He could feel his face _pulsing_ where he knew it would swell and more blood flowed from his split lip, the metallic taste familiar on his tongue.

_Thwack, thwack, thwack._

He was a flurry of movements. He could feel cartilage cracking under his knuckles. He could feel the power coursing through his veins.

Kavinsky might be at home in substance parties, but Ronan was at home in a fight. The cage was his second home. This was _his_ element.

Every move Kavinsky made to get out of danger was easy to predict and Ronan would hit him again. There would be no stopping him. He was an invincible machine.

Kavinsky’s back hit the chain link- he fell against it, his head swimming. Ronan could see consciousness like a tenuous thing and Kavinsky was trying his best to grab ahold of it. He was sliding further down but Ronan gripped him by the front of his white wife beater, the tank damp against his fingertips. He slammed Kavinsky against the wall and watched as his rivals head lulled.

Anyone else would look like they had just gotten their ass properly handed to them, but the shithead was smiling.

The smirk was crooked and bloody where his lip was busted and the glint of teeth that Ronan saw was smeared with red from the blood that filled his mouth. Kavinskys head dropped to the side and he started laughing in a way that rippled through Ronan’s very core. Not out of fear or confusion, but because Ronan wanted to devour the sound. He wanted Kavinsky to push it into his mouth with his tongue so Ronan could swallow every dirty note.

“Is that all you got, baby girl?”

There was so much more, Ronan wanted to absolutely wreck him. He wanted to break- no, shatter- Kavinsky until only he would know what piece went where. Ronan wanted to look down at Kavinsky in fragments and laugh when he told the Bulgarian to put himself back together.

Such reckless destruction he felt in that moment.

“Honey, if you want to tear me apart, do it with your teeth,” Kavinsky dared in an obscene voice, tongue poking out, a wanton look in his eyes.

 _How did he know?_ Ronan was stunned for a moment letting Kavinsky lean forward so that his lips brushed against Ronan’s ear when he spoke.

“I’m in your head, cocksucker.”

The whispered words hung in the air and for a moment he wanted to pull away from Kavinsky so that there was space between them. Being so close to the other boy always made Ronan feel exposed in the worst kind of way. This is what he always worried about when he decided to spend time with Kavinsky. Everyone else he knew was content with what Ronan was willing to give them, but Kavinsky peeled him apart, layer by layer to find the ugliest parts of him. He fed them, stoked them, and then devoured them. Kavinsky was demon of the worst sort.

He gathered up his thoughts as quickly as they had gotten out of control before slamming Kavinsky into the fence again. Their lips met and the kiss was a sloppy, teeth knocking, intoxicating mess. Ronan groaned into Kavinsky’s mouth as he tasted the blood on Kavinsky’s teeth as his tongue probed into his mouth. Kavinsky pulled at Ronan’s arm lightly only to let go and grab at his bare sides, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together and Ronan growled when he realized Kavinsky was still wearing his shirt.

Ronan yanked it off, the thin, sweat soaked material ripping. Kavinsky let out a slew of curses between chuckles.

“You’re a damn animal, Lynch. A fucking beautiful, hungry animal.”

_Hungry._

The word echoed in his head and Ronan pressed in closer. Now their mouths were at it again, he tugged at the ring that Kavinsky wore at the corner of his bottom lip and laughed breathlessly when Kavinsky gasped in pain. His swollen lips were already hurting, but Ronan wanted them to utterly ache with the remnants of the kisses that he gave the Jersey POS.

The boys bare torsos stayed flush as their uneven breaths pushed them apart and brought them back together again. Ronan drank in the sounds that Kavinsky let loose and his restless fingers curled into Kavinsky’s curly black hair pulling him harder into the kiss. The kiss only lasted a moment longer before Ronan pulled his head back so he could attack Kavinsky’s throat with his teeth. Maroon streaked the pale flesh of the boy’s throat as Ronan dragged his bloody mouth over the warm skin.

It was beautiful.

He bit down and Kavinsky gasped, arching up into him, seeking contact. At this point the only way for the boys to get closer would be…

“Fuck me,” Kavinsky spit out. “Now.”

The demand crashed into Ronan, not enough to make him buckle but enough that he stopped. It was not however enough to make him do what he was told so instead he took ahold of Kavinsky’s chin, his hand strong, sure. His fingers pressed into the boys jaw, holding him in place and forcing their eyes to meet. A look of dark carnal lust burned bright and malicious in Kavinsky’s eyes and Ronan loved it. It was such a satisfying feeling to watch Kavinsky slowly give into the pressure of Ronan’s dominance.

“Say please.”

Kavinsky’s mouth hung open, giving Ronan a chance to examine his swollen, ruby lips. And his eyes. Without his glasses his eyes were mesmerizing. Hazel and cocaine bright. Almost swallowed by his dilated pupils, twin pools of emptiness. His eyelashes were long and inky lending an innocent, easily offended look to his otherwise harsh face. “Please.” His mouth moved quickly but the words were quiet, vaguely annoyed.

“That’s my girl,” Ronan hissed.

Without warning he pushed his thumb into Kavinsky’s mouth making sure to drag it heavily over his bottom lip just to feel Kavinsky’s sharp intake of breath. His frail form trembled so hard that Ronan was pretty sure that he was going to fall to pieces. Kavinsky suckled at Ronan’s thumb as it pressed deeper into his mouth. Ronan’s mouth fell open with a throaty sound before he pulled his finger out. Kavinsky chased it with a hungry mouth and let out a groan when it finally managed to slip away.

He was so hot he was burning up.

Fuck.

Ronan trailed his fingers down Kavinskys concave chest and down into his pants, the loose shorts sliding down a few inches and then with nothing to hold them in place, all the way off. He skimmed his fingertips over K's angry red prick and between his legs. He pushed the wet digits against Kavinskys puckered entrance and the moan he received was downright filthy. Ronan grabbed his bicep and turned the addict so he was pressed against the chain link of the cage and spat onto his fingers. He didn't want to stare into his pretty eyes and see the swirlings of lost childhood and despair. K was panting against the fence, clawing at it to hold himself up at the intrusion of the blunt digits and let out a shuddering breath as he pushed back onto them.

  
"Hey shithead I ain't no damn virgin, fuck me or don't, but stop acting like you're gonna break me."

  
The words were mean, hard and Ronan didn't buy it. This was what he had been afraid of, K's power even when he was at a disadvantage. His confidence when he was weak. Maybe this was him just trying to prove he could conquer the world. Wasn't K just his fears manifest? Fears of what he'd turn into? Fears of being a petty thief, selfish, alone?

  
He plasters himself to Kavinsky back and licks the shell of his ear. "I could break you." Ronan whispers. _But I'd be breaking myself_ , he thinks and K acts like he knows what Ronan means. Because somehow he seems to be able to read his counterparts mind and it makes him so mad he doesn't care.

  
So he pulls out his fingers and lubes up his cock with spit and blood and thrusts in. Kavinsky hisses in pain but aches his back a little more so his ass is flush against Ronan's pelvis. Ronan groans at how good it feels and does it again, a slow drag out and a fast jerk of his hips back in.

  
One hand curls around K's neck, his fingers twisting in the gold chain there, careful and reckless all at once. His other hand stays planted on Kavinskys’ hip as he starts pounding into that tight ass, eyes closed tight, seeking pleasure and ignoring K's choked off sigh as he cums into his own hand. Ronan covers both of his hands where they claw at the chain link and in one last mighty thrust he finishes deep in Kavinsky. He sighs against his neck as he pulls out, cum sliding down Kavinsky’s trembling thighs.

  
Kavinsky had dropped his head against the metal and his breathing was slowing. Blindly he pulled his shorts up, grimacing as he straightened.

  
“You good?” Ronan asked quietly, following suit with his own shorts.

  
Kavinsky ignored him as he hobbled out of the ring and pushed his sunglasses back into place.

  
“You gonna want a second lesson?"

  
“Nah, Lynch. I ain’t no bitch for you to fuck.”

  
“Just fighting. No more fucking.” Ronan said, hand tangled in the chain link as he leaned out of the ring to track Kavinsky’s progress out of the gym.

  
Kavinsky turned at the door, pulling his sunglasses an inch down his nose to eye Ronan. “I thought you didn’t lie, Lynch.” The glasses came back up and he let the door swing closed behind himself. Outside, Ronan heard the white Mitsubishi Evo with the knife graphic on the side speed away.

  
Off to the side his phone vibrated. Ronan smiled a snake’s smile and started to peel the tape from his hands. The tape was stained with sweat, blood and cum.


End file.
